


sugar and pumpkin spice

by luftballons99



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Light Is Not Kira, Eventual Romance, Excessive Smooching, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff without Plot, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, L is a disaster and Light is working for the weekend, M/M, Romance, well. MINIMAL plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-22 17:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luftballons99/pseuds/luftballons99
Summary: Light doesn’t really know what he was expecting when he snapped at L a few nights ago. He knows what he hoped for; L realizing the error of his ways and expressing his contrition in the form of a generous donation to the tip jar on the counter; L keeping his shoes on next time (which should be a no-brainer, honestly); or, better yet, there not being a next time in the first place. But that was all just wishful thinking on his part. Even geniuses need to dream, sometimes.When L starts talking to him, he wonders if he should have spent his time strategizing instead.





	sugar and pumpkin spice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [softkilluas99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/softkilluas99/gifts).



> there's no mention of pumpkin spice lattes in this fic im SORRY i just needed a fucking coffee pun. sue me.
> 
> this is for kaz. for his birthday. which was over a month ago. *throws confetti* happy birthday you OLD FUCK

Light shakes his head as he tops a strawberry frappuccino with a frankly nauseating amount of whipped cream. He sighs, smothering the foamy substance with a half-dome plastic lid, perhaps with a little more force than necessary. Even with his eyes focused on the cup with an almost passive aggressive  _ L  _ scrawled on the side, he can still sense the waves of profound unpleasantness coming from a secluded corner of the shop, the same way animals can sense incoming natural disasters.

Light considers himself a good person, never passing judgement on others over trivial things like looks or labels.

But _ this _ . This  _ creature _ \- there’s really no other word for him - is really pushing it.

Who the hell sits like  _ that _ \- shoulders bent inward, knees pulled up - in a  _ public space _ ?

Light closes his eyes, as if it will somehow save him from his impending headache; from the unbelievably distressing person he’s about to summon to the counter.

In the end, the way he sits is the least of Light’s worries.

“L?” Light calls out, trying his best to keep the weariness out of his voice and almost managing it until he actually sees the patron’s face. 

L is a tough customer in more ways than one. Light can only fake his patented barista smile and pitch his voice to something more agreeable than that of a sleep deprived student waiting for either the end of his shift or the end of the world (whichever comes first) for so long.

Technically, the shop closes at 10 pm. Lucky for Light, L has the lovely habit of coming in just before closing time and ordering half the menu.

It is now 10:16, and Light, much like the milk in the walk-in he hasn’t gotten the chance to throw out, is past his expiration date.

L, however, is just as he always is. He looks newly undead and yet unsettlingly alert, his vantablack eyes wide and purple-ringed. At the mention of his name - alias -  _ whatever _ -, he perks up from his hunched position in his usual seat in the corner. With his knees up and slightly spread like a frog’s, he turns to Light while smiling and pointing at his own face as if to say,  _ Who, me?  _

He is the only other person here.

He’s got about five empty plates of different sizes spread out on the coffee table in front of him, and since all of Light’s coworkers have already gone for the day, he’s the one who’s going to have to clean them up.

How just one person manages to eat that much cake in one sitting and not die of a heart attack on the spot is baffling and just a little bit unfair.

“I have your order,” Light says to him -   _ without _ crushing the cup in his hands and imagining it’s L’s head, because the customer is king and Light is good at his job, no matter how miserable it makes him. He raises L’s order and gives it a quick shake to beckon him over instead.

L hops out of his chair, shoulders slumped and hands in his pockets. He walks the way he always does, with steps that look heavy but don’t make a sound, and it takes a moment for Light to realize it’s because he’s not wearing shoes. Again.

He allows himself a short sigh of frustration just when L makes it to the counter. He gives L a look that’s somewhere between pleading and contemptuous. He wears it so often he’s afraid his face might get stuck that way.

The look disappears when Light politely laughs, “Oh, I’m sorry, but we actually have a dress policy here,” bending over the counter slightly to gesture to L’s bare feet. “‘No shoes, no shirt, no service.’ You know how it is.”

L follows the path of Light’s pointer finger down to his feet and wiggles his toes, almost looking surprised, but when he tips his head back up, he mostly just looks bored.

“Well,” he says with a voice that always sounds like it belongs to someone who’s just been unwillingly woken from hibernation, “What’re you gonna do, kick me out? You’ve already made me my drink.”

The corner of Light’s smile twitches, cracking the carefully crafted, customer-friendly mask he’d put on to splinters. It shatters completely into a rain of shrapnel on the floor; just another thing for him to clean up later. He remains frozen as L gingerly plucks his drink out of Light’s grasp and shoves a straw through the top. 

Taking a long, thoughtful sip and then chewing on the straw, he wonders, “Can’t you make this any sweeter?”

Light considers himself a good person. He works hard, whether he’s at school or at his job, he helps Sayu with her math homework, he does chores around the house, he even walked some random old lady across the street the other day.

But  _ this _ . This is just egregious. This far, no further. There is a limit to what Light is willing to put up with. L has exceeded Light’s wildest expectations.

“I’ll give you a piece of advice,” Light says pleasantly, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning forward, lips curled into a saccharine smile. He gestures for L to come closer and once L’s ear is just a few inches from Light’s mouth, he whispers, 

“Don’t piss off the people who handle your food.”

Light leans back, still smiling, still radiant as a sunbeam, still sugar-sweet. L has the decency to look at least mildly put off by Light’s suggestion, frozen in place and no longer chewing on his straw. Light will take it. When you work in food service, it’s the little things that keep you going.

“Was that a threat?” L asks around his straw, intrigued, and Light’s triumph ends up being short-lived. 

“Depends,” Light says airily and, deciding  _ Fuck it _ , continues, “If it was, will you finally  _ get out _ ?”

Light watches the sticky corner of L’s mouth quirk into a smile that looks almost evil, his black fish eyes thoroughly entertained, and the next thing he knows, L is saying, “Loud and clear,” and shuffling to the door with his hands raised in surrender.

The door jingles, signaling L’s departure, and Light immediately collapses against the counter in exhaustion. He drapes himself across the wooden slab and stays there, a deflated balloon, until the counter’s edge digging into his ribs starts to get too uncomfortable. 

He allows himself a loud, frustrated groan because there are no customers around to hear it.

 

* * *

 

Things get weird.

Light doesn’t really know what he was expecting when he snapped at L a few nights ago. He knows what he  _ hoped _ for; L realizing the error of his ways and expressing his contrition in the form of a generous donation to the tip jar on the counter; L keeping his shoes on next time (which should be a no-brainer, honestly); or, better yet, there not being a next time in the first place. But that was all just wishful thinking on his part. Even geniuses need to dream, sometimes.

When L starts talking to him, he wonders if he should have spent his time strategizing instead.

Before today, their interactions were limited to the kind of pleasantries you’d expect to be exchanged between a barista and a customer, though Light wouldn’t exactly call them “pleasant.” He would be the one to do most of the talking and smiling and nodding and L would wait boredly and mutter something about his drink needing more sweetener. A few nights ago was the closest to a regular conversation they’d ever gotten, and it ended with Light practically chasing him out of the shop.

Needless to say Light wasn’t expecting L to behave like an actual human person and make smalltalk.

If Light thinks about it, maybe he’s the one to blame. He starts it, inadvertently, in a moment of bored absentmindedness with a sharpie between his sticky fingers and a sigh threatening his lips. It’s just before 10pm and he and L are, once again, the only two left in the shop, besides Matsuda gathering his things in the back.

“What’s L short for, anyway?” he asks under his breath as he scribbles the letter onto the side of a clear plastic cup, not necessarily wanting or expecting an answer.

He should have expected L to - 

\- Well, do the unexpected.

“I don’t like giving out my name to strangers,” L says mildly, scratching the inside of his ear with his pinky finger, “Especially strangers who’ve threatened to poison me.”

The cup slips from Light’s fingers and bounces off the edge of the counter. After tumbling to the floor, it rolls past Light’s feet to somewhere out of sight. Light thinks he can hear the sound of Matsuda slipping on it.

Recovering, Light flashes L a bright smile. “What?” he laughs incredulously, smoothly reaching for a second cup and blindly marking it with another sharp ‘L.’ He’s not entirely sure why he bothers - L is the only person here - but something about the flick of his wrist when he writes it is strangely satisfying. It’s the closest he’ll get to flicking L in the face like he’s found himself daydreaming about lately.

“Last time we spoke,” L recalls, brushing his thumb across his bottom lip, “You advised me not to ‘piss off the people who handle my food’.” He pauses, eyes scanning Light’s face. “Ah. It seems I’ve done just that. Again.”

Light’s polite facade breaks under the heavy weight of his bewilderment. That was his patented barista smile and it is absolutely flawless. Why is L, of all people, able to see through it?

“I was only joking about the poisoning. I know you didn’t mean it,” L says after a moment, almost placatingly. As if anyone could discern  _ anything  _ from his monotone so-called joke delivery. Light can feel his expression scrunching further, and somehow he’s powerless to stop it. L seems to notice and adds, “No need to make that face.”

“I’m not making a face,” Light almost snaps, even though he knows he is.

“Well, yes you are though,” L counters matter-of-factly.

“You are just --  _ Why _ ?” Light says finally, baffled and irritated beyond reason. He sets down the cup and folds his arms over his chest.

“I thought it was funny,” L says, shrugging slightly and shoving his hands into his pockets, “What you said last time.”

Light narrows his eyes. “It wasn’t supposed to be funny,” he mutters spitefully.

“The expressions you make sometimes are downright  _ murderous _ ,” L continues and Light frowns deeply. “When you think no one’s looking you look absolutely evil.”

“ _ You’re _ going to judge  _ my _ looks?” Light challenges, offended and bristling like a frayed paintbrush. “I mean, you don’t even wear  _ shoes _ half the time!”

L blinks. “It wasn’t a judgement,” he says almost hurriedly and Light’s edges soften, just a little, because underneath the aloofness and wit he actually seems genuine right now. L wrinkles his nose. “Though I suppose that statement regarding my footwear was.”

Light snorts. “You mean your lack of footwear?” he says dryly.

“Au contraire,” L quips, swinging his foot up onto the counter and doing half-hearted jazz hands. Light recoils instinctively, examining L’s foot with caution.

He supposes they are  _ technically _ shoes. They’re just really dirty. And scuffed. And old. And not supposed to be on the counter.

“I stand corrected,” Light concedes in a sigh, walking over to a row of coffee machines. L lowers his foot and follows him, peeking over their tops with a thoughtful finger placed on the corner of his mouth. 

“Was that a lie, then?” L wonders, smudging a thumb over his bottom lip. “What you said about the dress code here?”

“Well… I wouldn’t be surprised if those rules actually existed,” Light says carefully, filling L’s cup with sweet, icy sludge. He sets it down and reaches for the whipped cream with a sigh. “...But I suppose it’s not official policy.”

L grins wickedly, his eyes crinkling over the top of the coffee machine separating them. Light arches an eyebrow at him.

“If you knew that, why’d you put on shoes anyway?” he asks, wrist swirling as he sprays a fluffy mountain of whipped cream onto L’s drink.

L watches the sugary substance cover the top of his strawberry frappuccino. “It seemed important to you that I wear them,” he muses.

“Yeah, right,” Light scoffs, pressing the lid onto the cup. A bit of whipped cream smudges onto the side of his finger. He licks it off as he walks back to the register and reaches across the counter to offer L his drink. L takes it gratefully, holding it delicately between his spidery fingers; the way he holds everything, like it’s some kind of lab specimen he doesn’t want to get his fingerprints on. Feeling bold, Light says, “Besides, you not wearing shoes is probably the least bizarre thing about you.”

Slowly, L blinks. He places a pale hand over his heart. “I have feelings, you know,” he informs blankly and Light can’t help but laugh. 

When he realizes it’s the first time he’s genuinely smiled at work since, well,  _ ever _ (because of  _ L _ , of all people), he swallows his mirth and clears his throat awkwardly.

“Well,” he says after a charged moment of silence, clearing his throat - Why is he so  _ nervous _ ? - “I’m afraid it’s closing time.”

“Ah,” L utters. He lifts his cup and begins chewing on the straw before giving it a long suck. “Well, I’ll go be  _ bizarre _ somewhere else, then.”

Light snickers. “Just don’t do anything that will get you  _ actually  _ poisoned,” he advises. After a pause, he amends, “Actually, maybe you should. Then I might get to go home on time for once.”

L sighs in despair. “I see. So that’s how it is,” he laments, turning and heading to the door. “Such rude treatment of your most loyal customer. Not exactly a sound business practice.”

Light rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over the countertop. “Yeah, yeah,” he says flippantly, watching L’s bowed back as he walks away. “Just try coming at a reasonable hour next time.”

L stops, palm pressed to the foggy glass door. It’s only October, but autumn has already started creeping in, especially at night. L is going to be freezing without a jacket. “If there  _ is  _ a next time,” he says solemnly. “You’ve wounded me. I don’t know if I’ll ever recover.” 

Grief-stricken, he leans dramatically against the door and it immediately swings open under his weight. He stumbles and the best way to put it, Light finds, is that he just absolutely eats shit. His strawberries and cream frapp flies in the air and lands next to him on its side, sweet, pink sludge oozing out from behind the popped lid.

Light is so enraptured by the surreality of the moment that for a while he’s speechless, staring at the face-down L lying motionlessly on the floor.

A puffy laugh shoots past his lips, and then another, and another, until Light is in hysterics, bent over the counter with his forehead pressed against its surface. He laughs until his lungs heave and his stomach aches and his cheeks fill with color; rosy and sweet like strawberries and cream. His raw laughter claws at his throat and makes head pound like someone’s ringing a gong behind his skull and his heart. It hurts and it’s uncomfortable and it’s wonderful and Light doesn’t know how to stop; can’t remember the last time he’s been this sincere about anything.

Light always thought that L moves like some kind of phantom; a ghost haunting Light’s shift at the coffee shop (maybe L is his eternal punishment for some kind of sin in a past life); but he hadn’t expected him to phase through the front door like one.

Once he’s finally calmed down just enough to be able to breathe, laughter still spilling out of him like L’s drink from its plastic container, he hops over the counter and starts towards L. He offers him a hand. L takes it.

“You have a horrendous laugh,” he says, and Light swipes his hand back, still smiling as he watches L fall.

 

* * *

 

L comes at a reasonable hour for once.

Light has to blink a couple times and rub his eyes to make sure the L in front of him isn’t some sort of boredom-induced hallucination, but when he opens them again, L is still there. At 11:45am.

He looks different in the daylight; less spectral, but still out of place. That last part will probably never change.

Light finishes serving the girl practically draped over the counter and winking at him whenever he accidentally makes the mistake of glancing in her general direction. She might be the only regular customer as exhausting as L, what with the shameless flirting (She’s slipped her name and number into the tip jar more times than Light can count), but at least she wears shoes and doesn’t stick around past closing time. Light might have to file a restraining order if that ever becomes the case. He shudders at the thought.

Why can’t she harass Matsuda instead? He seems more than willing to subject himself to her...affections, if his dreamy looks her way are any indication.

“Have a nice day,” Light tells her, kindly enough to be polite but dimming his smile so she (hopefully) won’t read anything romantic into his tone.

It’s Misa, so it doesn’t work.

“You, too, Light,” she says sweetly, blowing him a kiss. The corner of his mouth twitches when she brushes her fingers against his as she accepts her cup of coffee. “See you soon, okay?”

Light tries his best to keep smiling, he really does. Whether or not it works - and whether or not Misa would even be able to pick up on his discomfort if it doesn’t - is a whole other issue. “I mean, I work here, so. Yes?”

Misa giggles, smiling up at him cutely and offering a finger-wiggle wave before skipping out of the shop.

“You’re a lucky guy, Light,” Matsuda sighs wistfully, framing his blushing face with his hands. “I don’t understand why you don’t just ask her out already.”

Light rolls his eyes. “I already told you, I’m not interested,” he says, noticing a stain on the counter and frustratedly scrubbing at it with the corner of his apron.

“But she’s gorgeous and it’s not like you’re seeing anyone else, right?” Matsuda goes on, like he always does. He’s a nice guy, but talking to him is sort of like talking to a little kid who won’t stop asking the same obvious questions: harmless and a fine way to pass the time, but largely unproductive.

Yes, Misa is pretty and yes, Light is currently single, but he’s also extremely gay. If she doesn’t stop being so persistent, he might just snap one day and start making out with Matsuda right in front of her to prove a point to both of them.

Light wrinkles his nose at his own thoughts. No, not Matsuda. Light can do better than Matsuda.

He decides that he’ll figure something out just as L shuffles up to the counter.

“Girlfriend?” is the first word out of his mouth and, like so many things about L, it makes Light cringe instinctively. “That’s a no, then,” L deduces immediately and Light feels relief wash over him. It’s nice that L just seems to  _ know _ . Light might go insane if he starts asking questions and talking in circles the way Matsuda does.

“Yeah,” Light sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She’s, uh,” he starts, glancing up to L and meeting his black eyes - even more striking in the daylight than at night - “Not my type.”

L hums thoughtfully for a long moment, not breaking eye-contact, because he’s weird and stubborn like that. Light isn’t about to cave, so he stares right back, undeterred. He does, however, clear his throat.

“So,” he says, “What can I - “

“ _ Do _ you have a girlfriend, then?” L cuts in, leaning in close with his thumbnail wedged between his teeth, eyes wide and focused.

Light gives a bewildered shake of his head. “I - uh - no, I don’t - “

“Then,” L continues firmly, now close enough that Light can count his eyelashes, “a boyfriend?”

Blistering heat festers on Light’s cheeks as he jerks back.  _ L, you  _ idiot _ , someone could hear! _ “That’s none of your business,” he decides, heart thundering wildly behind his ribs and eyes scanning the line of customers behind L to make sure no one is listening. “Who do you think you are?”

L blinks, tilting his head to one side. His back straightens slightly so he’s no longer looming over the counter and, somehow, that makes it easier for Light to breathe.

“I’m just making conversation,” L says simply, shrugging. It’s like he just casually flipped the lid on Pandora’s box and peeked inside like it was nothing.

“You’re weird,” is the only thing Light can think to say, scowling as he plucks a plastic cup off of the stack behind the counter and scribbles an L onto the side. He huffs. “Strawberry frappuccino, right?”

“You remembered,” L comments, an impish smile curling his lips. Light schools his face into a neutral expression despite the blush rising to his cheeks.

“You’re in here almost every day,” Light reasons, pointedly not meeting L’s eyes. “It’s really nothing.”

L hums contemplatively as he watches Light fix his drink. Somehow, his staring is especially unnerving today. 

When Light is done and he hands L the cup, their fingers brush, and it’s such a little, insignificant thing - Light brushes fingers with customers all the time - but it flusters him anyway and he curls his toes in his shoes just to do something with the nervous energy bubbling inside him.

“I’m sorry if I offended you earlier,” L says cautiously, shoving a straw through the lid of his cup. Light should tell him to just leave already (For once, he’s not the only one in the shop and he’s holding up the line), but instead he just sighs.

“Jesus, L, I’m not offended you thought I might have a  _ boyfriend _ ,” he huffs, drawing out the last word like it’s the first time he’s saying it; like it’s from another language.

“Oh, that’s good,” L says pleasantly, and for a split second Light thinks they might be able to put this whole conversation behind them, but his hopes are dashed when L continues with a, “So, do you have one, then?”

Light glares at him until he steps out of line.

 

* * *

Light doesn’t like to brag, but he is, objectively, something of a genius. He’s been at the top of all his classes since high school. He’s won writing awards left and right. He notices things that other people don’t; knows how to read the knit in their brows and the slant of their lips; can translate the slightest inflection into an annotated bibliography of thoughts and feelings.

He knows when he’s being flirted with.

Delicate laughter behind dainty hands; sultry looks over shoulders; batting eyelashes and pouting lips; voices an octave too high, a serving too sweet. Misa Amane is a classic example, and while not everyone is as conspicuous as her, they usually exhibit similar behavior.

Unfortunately, Light’s expertise only applies to the average human.

L is many things. But average? Not one of them.

The boyfriend question should have tipped him off, in retrospect, but Light refuses to berate himself for not noticing at first. When he talks to L, he’s too busy trying to keep up to stop and think about whether or not he’s being  _ flirted with _ . Besides, L is so bizarrely alien, so quintessentially  _ weird _ , that Light, initially, hadn’t even considered he might have romantic feelings and impulses just like everyone else. 

Light isn’t used to being wrong.

“Are we friends?” L drawls one cold October evening, sitting at the bar so he can pester Light while he brews coffee behind the counter. He pops the lid on his now nearly empty cup and scrapes residual whipped cream off the sides with the end of his straw before licking it off, not making eye contact but still somehow expectant.

It takes a moment for the question to register in Light’s mind - he’s rearranging the dessert display window to accommodate the fact that they’re out of pumpkin cream cupcakes, thanks to L - but when it finally does, it makes his skin crawl with heat.

“Uh,” he says dumbly, brushing his hands free of crumbs and peeling off his rubber gloves. “If by ‘friends’ you mean ‘the bane of my existence,’ then it depends. Do I annoy you beyond reason, too?”

L hums, unconvinced, and slumps against the counter, licking whipped cream off the corner of his mouth. “I’m no expert, but I’m fairly certain that definition is the exact opposite of what friendship is.”

Light chuckles. “How certain?”

L considers this for a moment. “At least 80 percent.”

Light purses his lips, tilting his head from side to side. “I think further investigation is required,” he concludes, meeting L’s eyes and finally smiling.

L nods, not breaking eye contact, and drags a thumb across his bottom lip - a quirk of his that Light picked up on almost immediately. The L-ness of it makes him smile even wider.

“I think you’re absolutely right,” L agrees, retracting his thumb and replacing it with his tongue. Light watches it dart out past the seam of his lips, leaving glistening pink skin in its wake. He realizes he’s been staring at L’s mouth for way too long and pretends to adjust his watch instead. “I think we need to spend more time together.”

Light lets out an amused snort, ignoring the way his collar feels too tight. “I think we spend plenty of time together.”

“I meant outside of the shop.”

“Like where? Doing what?” Light laughs, hoping he doesn’t sound nervous.

L simply shrugs. “I’m not sure. I didn’t think I’d get this far.”

That pulls a more genuine laugh from Light’s lungs, accompanied by a burst of fluttering warmth in his gut. After a moment, he says, “Well, what do you like to do? Besides harass me at work?”

L’s mouth twists unpleasantly. “‘Harass’ is such an ugly word,” he says. “And I’m usually either working or spending time with my foster siblings.”

Light’s eyes widen, interest piqued. “You have foster siblings?” he says, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline. “Somehow I pictured you as an only child.”

“Well, since we’re not related by blood, you’re technically not wrong,” L concedes. He chews on the end of his straw. “Near and Mello. They’re in high school.”

Light nods, humming in acknowledgement. “I take it weird nicknames run in the family.”

“‘L’ is hardly a weird nickname,” L mutters, slightly defensive. “Certainly not as weird as Near and Mello’s.” He pauses, staring pensively at the ring of moisture his cup left on the counter before following its path with his finger until it’s absorbed into his skin. “Perhaps I’ll bring them by sometime,” he muses quietly.

Light chuckles. “Oh boy,” he says, resting his cheek in his palm, his arm propped up on the counter. He notices a fleck of whipped cream on the corner of L’s mouth and plucks a napkin out of a nearby dispenser, casually offering it to him. “One L is enough, but it’s like you’re multiplying.”

L blinks, taking the napkin and dabbing it at his mouth. Once he’s finished, he runs his tongue across his lips again, and Light feels something in his chest squeeze. “We’re not that similar,” L says. When Light glances up to look him in the eyes, he discovers that L was already staring at him. He curls his fingers into his palm. “Near and Mello lack my social finesse.”

Light guffaws, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Oh my god,” is all he can manage.

“What?” L asks innocently.

“You are probably the most socially inept person I’ve ever met,” Light teases, grinning easily.

“Not socially inept enough to drive you away,” L counters.

“That’s only because you come pester me while I’m stuck at work,” Light points out, smirking. 

L remains undeterred. “So let’s meet outside of your work,” he repeats sincerely. Something about his tone is different than before. What was once a casual suggestion is now a genuine request.

Why is this so important to him? It’s almost like --

“Oh,” Light says, suddenly enlightened. Every interaction he’s ever had with L recontextualizes itself in his head; every fleeting glance and brush of fingers, every sparkling conversation and flutter in his chest.

_ Oh. _

“Oh?” L echoes questioningly, tilting his head to the side as if in confusion, even though Light  _ knows  _ that L knows that he knows, because he’s L and just understands, somehow. Light watches the soft fringe of his bangs slip across his pale forehead, the almost dainty curl of his forefinger against his lips, his  _ lips _ -

“Okay,” Light agrees before he knows what he’s saying. He just keeps staring at the fingertip pressed to L’s mouth; keeps thinking about how he wants to replace it with his own.

He feels psychological whiplash; emotional vertigo. Every fleeting thought he’s ever had about L that he’s kept safely tucked away suddenly comes alive as if he’s having it for the first time.

L is weird and greasy and witty and unfairly cute under all the bizarre ticks and quirks and Light realizes with sudden clarity that he’s completely, horribly smitten.

“Really?” L says, voice smooth but eager as he leans closer over the counter.

Light nods. “Yeah,” he says, smiling. Almost cautiously, Light covers L’s hand with his own, squeezing it encouragingly. L stares down at it with wide eyes, like this is the first time he’s ever been touched. His fingers squirm under Light’s palm and wiggle into the spaces between Light’s until their digits are laced together. 

There’s a deep ache in Light’s chest and a solid warmth in his belly that make his whole body shiver. L’s hand is bony and a little clammy, but Light weirdly doesn’t mind. Suddenly, he doesn’t mind a lot of things about L.

“Oh,” L says abruptly, eyes flitting to Light’s watch. “I should go.”

Light’s grip on his hand tightens instinctively before he remembers himself and gently pulls it back.

“Oh, right,” he says, trying not to let the disappointment seep into his voice. He exhales tiredly before flashing L a warm smile.

L climbs out of his seat, stretching like a cat after a long nap, and offers Light an unpracticed smile of his own, crooked and lovely. He shuffles over to the door, pushing it open and letting a gust of cold wind blow into the shop. Light can feel it from behind the counter and rubs up and down his arms for warmth. L has gone out in chilly weather before, but he’s seriously going to freeze if he doesn’t start dressing warmer.

An idea strikes him and he calls, “L, wait!” just before L takes his first step outside. He turns back toward Light curiously, watching him disappear into the back room. Light dashes over to the coat rack in the corner, untangling his scarf from one of its branches and heading back out to where L is. He walks up to him wordlessly and drapes the scarf over his slumped shoulders, wrapping it around his neck and tucking in the ends. When L is sufficiently bundled up, he adjusts the scarf so its soft fabric will keep L’s chin warm when he goes outside.

“There,” he says, satisfied with his work. His fingers brush over the wrinkles in his scarf, dangerously close to L’s neck. He clears his throat, shaking his head minutely to free himself of his intrusive thoughts. “You know, you should really wear a jacket. It’s starting to get cold, especially at night.”

L blinks at him slowly, silently reaching for Light’s hands, still tugging at his scarf. He holds them delicately, gaze soft. Light gulps, but doesn’t look away. It’s unnerving and vulnerable, but he likes it when L looks at him so intently, and he likes looking back. He could look at L for a long time.

“I think I could fall for you, Light,” he murmurs, voice rich like honey. Light curls his fingers into the gaps between L’s with a sharp intake of dizzying breath. It’s just like L to suddenly say something that completely throws Light off. He hates it and he loves it.

“You’re so weird,” he says, shaking his head and chuckling helplessly, thinking,  _ Me, too. _

 

* * *

Things don’t change as drastically as Light would have expected (hoped?), but maybe that’s a good thing. He doesn’t have much firsthand experience in the matter, but Sayu sees herself as something of a romance expert and has posited that healthy relationships really aren’t all that different from deep friendships.

Not that he and L are in a  _ relationship _ , per se. They haven’t even gone on a date yet and it’s been two weeks since L first suggested the idea. He is busier than Light thought; apparently, he’s a  _ private investigator _ , of all things, and refuses to stop making jokes about having to hunt Light down for ‘stealing his heart,’ no matter how much Light begs him to shut up.

Alright. Maybe some things have changed.

“Exhibit A,” L proclaims, making a rectangle with his forefingers and thumbs and peering through it like it’s a camera lens, zooming in on Light’s face. Light rolls his eyes and swats L’s hands away, but L isn’t intimidated. “Suspect flaunts his symmetrical face and aesthetically superior bone structure in order to lead his victims into a false sense of security, allowing him to abscond with their hearts,” he goes on, deadly serious. Light’s cheeks burn against his palms and he sighs defeatedly, praying that none of the other customers overhear L’s misguided attempts at flirting.

“L,” Light says weakly, “ _ Please  _ let me work. If I let Matsuda run the register for much longer he’s going to have a panic attack.”

L lowers his hands and rests them on the edge of the counter as he leans forward. “It’s your face,” he says, like that explains everything. 

Light crosses his arms, miffed. “What’s wrong with my face?” he demands.

“Nothing,” L insists, “That’s precisely it.”

Light pinches the bridge of his nose, making a show of being annoyed and ignoring how pleased he actually is. “Just,” he starts, holding out his hand in a ‘stay put’ gesture, “Wait. I - I got Takada to cover the rest of my shift after my lunch break today.” He clears his throat, adding, “And, if you want, we can. Go somewhere.”

L immediately perks up, nodding cooperatively. Light is hit with the overwhelming urge to ruffle his already messy hair, but he’s been managing his urges around L - whether they were well-intentioned or not - since they first met, and he doesn’t want to start letting his control slip now. Instead he sighs softly and relieves Matsuda of his duties at the register.

Light, unsurprisingly, does not like his job. It’s boring and tedious and requires him to spend much more time deflecting unsolicited flirtations from frivolous-minded girls than he’d like. Equally unsurprisingly, Light is used to looking forward to his lunch break.

Still, he is convinced that, even on his worst days, he’s never been more excited to get off work than he is right now.

He’s perhaps a little  _ too _ giddy when the alarm on his watch goes off, signaling the start of his break. He finishes serving his last customer before handing the reigns to Takada. L is still sitting where he was before, attentively scrolling on his phone with his index finger. Light unties his apron as he walks to the back room, tossing it aside and grabbing the rest of his things before heading back outside. This time, L’s eyes are focused on him, and even though L isn’t smiling, Light can tell that he’s pleased.

When they step outside, it’s cold and cloudy. L, once again, is without a jacket, and as Light scolds him and loops his scarf around L’s neck, he begins to suspect that he’s ‘forgetting’ to put on proper outerwear on purpose. Light doesn’t plan on calling him on it. 

He finishes bundling L up with a satisfied sigh and a pat on his chest. “There,” he says softly, smiling.

“Thank you,” L says after clearing his throat and sniffling. Light’s brows knit in concern.

“Are you sick?” he asks, taking an instinctive step back, though he doesn’t let go of the ends of the scarf around L’s neck.

“No,” L says decisively, reaching for one of Light’s hands. “Let’s go.”

Light is still suspicious, but he drops it. He squeezes L’s palm briefly before letting go and slipping his hand into his jacket pocket. Part of him wants to hold hands, but his more sensible side makes an extensive list of reasons why that would be a bad idea. He sighs, watching his breath turn white in the cold air.

“So,” he says, “Any ideas on where we should go?”

L hums. “I was thinking we could grab coffee,” he suggests, and for a moment Light is struck dumb by shock, stopping dead in his tracks with his jaw hanging open.

“You asshole,” Light laughs incredulously, playfully socking L in the shoulder when he realizes it was a joke. “I’m so sick of coffee after working at that place.”

“I figured as much,” L chuckles quietly, fondly rubbing the spot on his upper arm where Light’s knuckles had made contact. 

Light sidles a little closer to him as they walk; close enough for their shoulders to brush. L doesn’t seem to mind.

They just keep walking, crisp city air leaving their cheeks and noses flushed, talking about whatever comes to mind. They pass all sorts of restaurants and shops on their destinationless walk, but Light isn’t interested in doing anything that isn’t listening to the sound of L’s voice, rich and smooth like dark chocolate, and feeling their knuckles bump together as they go. L’s company in itself is enough of an adventure.

Just as Light thinks he could spend all day like this, he notices a dark fleck on the sidewalk, and then a wet droplet of water landing on his nose. He looks up at the cloudy sky, darker than it was when they left, and looks down again just in time to avoid a raindrop splatting against his eye.

He turns to L, whose nose is tipped up towards the sky. They lock eyes.

“Uh oh,” L deadpans just before distant thunder begins to rumble somewhere overhead.

“Uh oh,” Light echoes as the raindrops come quicker, heavier, darkening the sidewalk and making the street slick. Thinking fast, he says, “Come on, my apartment isn’t far from here,” and tugs L along by the sleeve.

They dash along the sidewalk as the sheets of rain get thicker and thicker, soaking Light’s hair and trickling down his nose. L’s shirt is completely drenched, clinging to him in a way that shouldn’t be as distracting as it is, but Light has come to terms with the fact that everything about L is distracting in one way or another, so he might as well indulge a little and appreciate how the fabric is almost translucent from the rain water. 

A few minutes later, they’re at Light’s front door, a trail of foot-shaped puddles in their wake. Light fishes his keys out of his coat pocket and jams them into the lock, eager to get out of the cold. He leads L inside by the hand and they shuffle past the threshold, wet shoes squelching against the floor. As the door falls shut behind them, Light runs his palm along the wall, feeling around for the light switch. The moment it bumps the side of his pinky, he flips it, and suddenly the dim apartment is bathed in warm yellow light.

The fact that L is in his home is now startlingly real and more overwhelming than he thought it would be.

Wordlessly, the two of them slip out of their soggy shoes and tuck them into the corner by the door. Light takes off his jacket and untangles his scarf from L’s neck, draping them over his coat rack.

“Um,” Light says, giving L a once over. He looks like a wet cat, dripping and miserable. “Do you want to take a bath or something? I can find you a change of clothes for afterwards.”

Instead of answering, L sneezes, and it’s cute because it’s not and that seems to be a running theme with L. 

Light chuckles. “Okay, yeah, you’re just going to get sicker if you don’t take a bath and warm up. Follow me.”

“I’m not sick,” L argues softly, nose stuffy. Light arches a skeptical eyebrow at him over his shoulder as he leads him down the hall to his modest bathroom. He grabs a towel from the closet inside and a clean t-shirt and sweatpants from his room and hands the pile of soft fabric to L.

“Here,” he says.

L sniffs. “Thank you.”

Light can’t resist, so he presses his palm to L’s cheek and brushes this thumb over his cold skin. L leans into his touch, looking at him curiously.

Light huffs softly. “Okay,” he says, smiling crookedly. “I’ll leave you to it.”

L nods and Light turns to leave. When the bathroom door shuts behind him, he leans against it and sighs, somehow relieved.

L is in his house. L is bathing in his house. L is bathing  _ naked _ in his house, unless L doesn’t bathe naked for some weird reason, which doesn’t make sense, but it’s  _ L  _ so he can’t be sure, and suddenly Light hears water running on the other side of the door and fabric thudding against the cold tile floor and the reality of L being naked just a few feet away really begins to settle in. He feels his face heat up and peels himself away from the door, heading towards the kitchen instead.

He starts a pot of tea and digs around his fridge for some honey while the kettle boils. While he waits, he busies himself with his phone. Once the seething kettle starts to whistle, he leans over the stove and turns off the heat as he hears footsteps shuffle into the kitchen.

“Your hair is wet,” L’s voice says behind him just before a towel is draped over Light’s head. He’s right. Though Light managed to avoid being completely drenched by the rain thanks to his jacket, his hair has been sticking to his forehead in soaked, dark tendrils this whole time. He blinks in shock as L gently ruffles his hair, his hands warm even through the dampening fabric of the towel.

L is standing _ so close _ and as Light turns to face him and peeks out from underneath the towel, his face colors when he sees L wearing one of his t-shirts and a pair of his sweatpants. He looks up to L’s face, pink from the heat of the bathwater. He smells clean, like Light’s laundry detergent, like home. Light swallows thickly.

Slowly, he tugs on one end of the towel and lets it slip from his head into a crumpled pile on the kitchen floor. L eyes him curiously for a moment, but his expression turns to surprise when Light reaches up to cup his warm cheeks in his hands and pulls him forward.

This is their first kiss. This is  _ Light’s _ first kiss - the first one that has mattered, anyway, and he’s not sure how, but he knows that this one does. 

L is stiff at first, understandably shocked (even  _ Light  _ is shocked) as Light pushes his chin forward and presses his lips against his, warm and firm. L unwinds slowly, hands sliding up to Light’s shoulders and squeezing. Light takes it as an encouragement and parts his lips, dipping his tongue into the warm cavern of L’s mouth, and L makes a muted, surprised noise in the back of his throat. He tastes like rain water and the sourness that comes after eating something sweet and Light melts against him, wrapping his arms around L’s neck and sighing deeply through his nose.

“Mmn, Light,” L murmurs against his lips and Light surges forward again, dizzy with heat and the need to be close. He regrets not meeting with L outside of his work sooner and decides to make up for lost time, sucking on L’s bottom lip and sliding a hand into his damp hair. L’s fingers curl into the collar of his shirt and gently push him back. “ _ Light _ ,” he repeats urgently and Light dips his head into the crook of his neck, littering soft kisses across his rosy-smelling skin. His arms curl around L’s middle and pull him close, L’s chin landing on his shoulder.

“Light, it’s,” L starts feebly, sucking in a sharp breath when Light grazes his teeth under his jaw. After a deep sigh, L grabs Light by the shoulders and pushes him back - not harshly, but not gently, either.

When Light opens his eyes, he realizes immediately what the problem is.

“The light,” L explains, just a hairsbreadth away and yet completely invisible in the dark, “It went out.”

Thunder roars outside as lightning flashes just outside Light’s living room window, a spark of bright white immediately extinguished. Light wipes his wet lips with the back of his hand and clears his throat, embarrassed and annoyed and wondering if it would be okay to just keep kissing L and worry about the power outage later. Light can make out the awkward silhouette of his arm as he rubs the back of his neck. 

He sighs. “Come on,” he says almost shyly, taking L’s hand and nodding towards the forgotten tea kettle on the stove. “Let’s just...drink the tea before it gets cold.”

They pour the tea, mixing it with honey and, in L’s case, lethal amounts of sugar. There’s something familiar about L drinking ungodly sweet drinks and Light chastising him for it, the lingering awkwardness between them dissolving like the sugar cubes L drops into his mug. Light gets a second hand sugar high when he caves and kisses him softly on the lips after they’ve curled up on his couch. He pulls back only to tilt his head and press kisses against the smooth plane of L’s cheek, feeling it glow with heat under his lips. L exhales quietly, relaxing against the couch cushions as Light climbs over him, covering them both in the blanket he keeps draped over the armrest and settling half on top of L, comfortably wedged between him and the back of the couch. Hooking a leg around L’s, he cranes his neck to kiss him again.

L is not a good kisser, but he’s not a bad one, either. The slide of his lips is slow and cautious and clumsy in a way Light can appreciate. He has to assume that L has little experience in romantic affairs. He doesn’t mind taking initiative.

Light kisses him gently, lips pliant as they coax L’s mouth open. L responds so slow and soft it inspires a deep ache in Light’s chest; one that doubles when L’s hands find his and squeeze him tightly. Light hums leisurely against his mouth, hypnotized, only pulling back so they can catch their breath, already itching to kiss him again.

The two foot width of the counter that’s usually separating them seems absolutely criminal right now.

L studies him, tracing the curve of his cheekbone with feather-light fingers, as if he’s afraid of overstepping. It’s ridiculous, because L has had no problems making Light’s life hell in the past, but the fact that he’s so thoughtful in this makes Light shiver, anyway. Light leans forward and plants a kiss on his cheek, and then another, and another on his forehead, saying, “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

L hums as he carefully sifts his fingers through Light’s hair. “Is that a bad thing?” he asks quietly.

Light chuckles softly. “It  _ is  _ a bad thing,” he insists, catching L’s earlobe between his teeth and grinning at the shudder it earns him. “It’s a  _ very _ bad thing. Who knows what I’ll do.” He angles his head lower, laying an open-mouth kiss on the side of L’s neck. L hums, throat vibrating under Light’s lips.

“So it’s my fault you can’t control yourself?” L asks lightly, the fingers he has stuck in Light’s hair running down the back of his neck and up again.

Light sucks a deep welt into the skin over L’s fluttering pulse and feels two rows of blunt fingernails dig into his shoulders. L shivers, shifting underneath Light and curling his elbow around his middle.

“You can’t control yourself, either,” Light observes teasingly and nips at the glistening patch of red skin he created.

“ _ Ah _ ,” L whimpers before quickly turning his head away and smothering his mouth with his palm.

Light pushes himself up by the elbows to make sure L can see the satisfied smirk on his face. “Exhibit A,” Light quips. L frowns up at him, lips shiny and swollen.

“Bad,” he deadpans, prodding Light’s cheek with his forefinger.

Light snickers, bowing his head so it rests against L’s, their noses brushing. “This is payback for distracting me at work,” he decides.

“Distracting?” L echoes questioningly, eyes big and curious. Light pecks his lips before answering.

“Like going on rants about my facial symmetry while I’m trying to serve customers,” he supplies, amused.

A mischievous smile creeps over L’s lips. “You like it, though,” L deduces, smoothing some of Light’s hair behind his ear.

Light looks off to the side, making it look like he’s considering that possibility for the first time. “I guess… I don’t hate it,” he admits, smiling.

“Hmm,” L hums, satisfied with Light’s admission. He brushes his knuckles down Light’s cheek until they reach the corner of his jaw and traces his thumb along the line of it. Light closes his eyes, resting his forehead against L’s more heavily with a relaxed sigh.

“It really is excellent,” he hears L murmur.

“Hm?”

“Your facial symmetry.”

Light laughs, pushing his chin forward and smothering the sound against L’s lips. He feels L smiling and winding his hand back into Light’s hair. They kiss for a long time, the afternoon dissolving into warm lips and gentle hands like the clouds into rain outside.

They kiss before Light gets up to put away their empty mugs.

They kiss after he comes back with matches and a dusty candle to offer them some light.

They kiss when L makes a bad pun relating to Light’s name once the candle is lit.

They kiss before Light falls asleep bathed in the glow of the candle with L’s heart beating in his ear.

  
  
  
  
  


He wakes up to a finger tracing the shell of his ear and L’s chest vibrating against his cheek when he muses, “The lights came back on.”

Light’s bleary eyes crack open as he grunts, lifting his head and realizing with dismay that a string of saliva spans between the corner of his mouth and the front of L’s shirt. His hand snaps up to his face, frantically rubbing his wet lips dry with the back of it. When he looks up at L’s face, he’s met with a shit-eating grin.

“Not a word,” Light says dangerously, voice raspy from sleep. He squints through the now functioning lights, covering one eye with his palm and groaning.

“You look good,” L says, amused. He reaches up, smudging his thumb across Light’s bottom lip the way he usually does with his own.

“Oh, shut up,” Light says dryly, peeling himself off of L and kneeling between his legs. He looks around, mind still fuzzy from his nap, and realizes that the outside of his window is pitch black. Eyebrows scrunching, he asks, “What time is it?”

“Approximately 7:42pm,” L supplies, pushing himself up into a sitting position. “You were drooling on my shirt for about three hours.”

Numbing heat crawls into Light’s cheeks as he turns his head away, arms crossing over his chest. “You  _ let  _ me drool on your shirt for about three hours.”

L shifts, pulling one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it. “I suppose I did,” he murmurs, tilting his head to the side as if considering something. Light arches an eyebrow at him. “I’d let you do it again, too, if it meant I get to see your sleeping face.”

“That is incredibly creepy,” Light says, cracking voice too loud for the room.

“It’s just that,” L pauses to snicker to himself, “You look just  _ awful _ when you sleep.“

“What about my ‘facial symmetry’?” Light parrots, flopping against the back of the couch.

“Don’t pout,” L says, scooching closer. One of his legs bends over Light’s lap, the other filling the gap between Light’s lower back and the back of the couch. Light sighs, reluctantly looping his arms around L’s shoulders and pulling him in for a kiss. L cups his cheeks warmly and Light loosens, his irritation dissolving. 

“Are you staying the night?” Light murmurs when they separate, not thinking of the implications.

L freezes. “I...don’t think I should,” he says cautiously.

Light blinks. “Oh,” he blurts in realization, face heating up, “Oh! No, I wasn’t - That’s not what I meant.”

L’s cheeks have a faint pink tint to them when he says, “It’s not?”

Light shakes his head. “No, I just thought...Well, if it’s still raining, I didn’t want to, like. Kick you out into the street.”

“Oh. Not to worry,” L assures him, closing his eyes and softly kissing Light’s cheek. “I was planning on calling a taxi.”

Light relaxes, resting his head on L’s shoulder. “Okay,” he says quietly as L’s arms wrap around him.

  
  
  
  
  


“I’ll see you soon,” Light says, shoulder pressed against his doorframe. It’s only drizzling outside now, barely audible through the closed living room window behind him.

L is back in his own clothes, which Light belatedly tossed in the dryer sometime after he woke up, plus one of Light’s jackets. Light will be damned if he lets L go out in the cold without one. 

“That’s presumptuous,” L teases. Light makes a show of rolling his eyes before grabbing L by the front of the jacket and pulling him in.

Something like longing flourishes inside him, inflating his heart until his chest feels tight. He realizes he doesn’t want L to go and kisses him slower, gently licking into his mouth and sinking his hands into L’s hair, slightly curled from never being dried properly.

When he finally manages to pull away, it’s only because he knows the longer he kisses him, the harder it will be not to drag him back into the apartment and keep kissing him until his lips go numb. He stays close enough that they breathe the same air, foreheads touching, L’s nose poking his cheek and vice versa.

“Okay,” Light whispers after a long moment, only now realizing that he must have grabbed L’s hands at some point. Their fingers are zipped together tight, neither of them wanting to be the first to let go. He closes his eyes, sighing quietly. “Okay,” he says again with finality. “You should - “

“Wait,” L cuts him off, closing the sliver of space left between them and pressing his lips to Light’s, again and again and again, drowning him in a string of sweet kisses.

“L,” Light manages between pecks, getting flustered. “Stop or - “ another kiss, “ - you’ll never leave.”

“Just one more,” L vows, his cheeks a blotchy red but his expression otherwise impassive, and proceeds to give Light another three short kisses.

Light can’t help the incredulous laugh that bubbles up from his throat and gets smothered by L’s lips. Finally, he wrenches his hands out of L’s grip and pushes him back by the shoulders. L’s lips are still puckered when he jokes, “What is it with you and staying in places past closing time?”

L licks his red lips, blinking. “Is that a complaint?”

“If it was, would you go catch your taxi before it ditches you already?” Light challenges.

L thinks for a moment. “One more,” he says decisively, leaning forward.

“Last one,” Light relents, making his voice sound stern despite his eagerness to give in.

L steals another five kisses before Light has to resort to slamming the door in his face.

 

* * *

“I hate you,” Light says the next morning, voice unrecognizable even to his own ears. The thermometer wedged under his tongue beeps and when Light pulls it out of his mouth, squinting at it with glassy eyes, his irritation (much like his temperature) spikes to unhealthy levels. “ _ A hundred and one _ .” He chucks the device onto his messy bed.

“If it’s any consolation - ” L attempts, audibly hoarse even through the phone.

“It’s not.”

“ - I’m still sick as well.”

Light huffs, curling in on himself under his covers. His phone is making his cheek sweaty where it’s pressed against his skin so he hits the speaker button and drops it next to his pillow. “Serves you right,” he spits. He laughs bitterly. “You know, I should have seen this coming. You’ve made me sick from the moment I met you.”

“Hold on now,” L says, slightly affronted. “In my defense,  _ you  _ were the one who initiated,” he pauses, trying to find a way of putting it delicately and eventually deciding on, “tonsil hockey.”

Light has to resist launching his phone out his bedroom window. “Why do you have to phrase it like that,” he groans, smacking a palm against his burning forehead, hot from more than just the fever, now.

“Is that not what the kids are calling it nowadays?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. Light knows better.

“Don’t try and change the subject,” he commands, plucking a tissue from the box on his nightstand and wiping his runny nose with it. Sniffing, he groans, “God, I’m never kissing you  _ again _ .”

L lets out a short, disappointed whine. “That’s cruel. Draconian.”

“Punishment fits the crime,” Light says hotly. “You basically poisoned me. I could have you tried for attempted murder.”

L scoffs. “I could say the same thing. You  _ actually  _ threatened to poison me first. At the shop.” He pauses. “Maybe that’s how I got sick,” he says in dawning horror.

Light snorts. “ _ Please _ ,” he laughs dryly. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.”

L is quiet for a long moment. “I’m having some doubts about this relationship,” he says carefully.

Light tries not to laugh and ultimately blames his failure on the fever. He hears L’s muffled chuckles on the other end and somehow, that makes him laugh harder. One of his nostrils is still congested while the other won’t stop running, his throat is still sore and scratchy, and his head still seems to be stuffed with a dizzying amount of cotton balls, but somehow he’s not mad about it anymore.

“Hey,” he says after a while, voice nasally. “You said ‘relationship.’”

L is silent for a moment before responding, “I think your fever has made you delusional.”

Light sputters. “Yeah, yeah,” he says dismissively, coughing. “Anyway, you owe me now. How are you planning on making this up to me?”

L hums thoughtfully and Light can just imagine him tilting his head to one side, his thumb rubbing his lips. His heart pinches in what Light now recognizes as fondness. Maybe he really is delusional. “I’ll take you on a date that doesn’t end in you contracting a debilitating illness.”

“Ha!” Light barks, a little too loudly. After a brief coughing fit and the use of another tissue, he says, “Sounds  _ lovely _ .”

“I realize the bar has probably never been lower,” L says, sniffing, “but I promise I’ll rectify that next time.”

Light smiles to himself. “Okay,” he says in a sigh, satisfied.

Sudden commotion on L’s end makes him scrunch his eyebrows together. There’s an unfamiliar, loud voice shouting unintelligibly and the clatter of what Light assumes is dishes.

“What is going  _ on _ ?” Light asks, confused.

“My sibling,” L says, voice loud and distant as if he’s turned his face away from his phone, “is once again being  _ outstandingly incompete _ \-  _ Ouch _ !”

“Fuck you and your fucking soup,” the unfamiliar voice roars, now crystal clear, “I hope you die!”

“Mello,” a third, smooth voice cuts in, “Just let me do it.”

Light has to shove his phone to the edge of the bed to avoid losing his hearing from all the shouting that follows, somewhere between thoroughly amused and deeply bewildered. Once things seem to have calmed down, he tentatively turns the speaker off and brings the phone back up to his ear.

“Still alive?” he asks, one eyebrow arched even though L can’t see it.

“Barely,” L breathes. “I’ve executed a tactical retreat to my bedroom.”

“You ran.”

“Well, if you’d like to be reductive...“

Light laughs openly, rolling onto his back and smiling up at his ceiling. A fresh wave of heat flooding his cheeks, he admits, “I want to see you again.”

L lets out a short, relieved-sounding sigh. “Me too. I hope you feel better soon.”

“You too,” Light returns. After a quick glance to his bedside clock, he huffs. “Okay, I should go. Apparently my family doesn’t trust me to get well on my own, so they sent Sayu over.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” L says over the sound of another distant crash and more yelling, “May her visit be more pleasant than what I’m dealing with here.”

Light snickers warmly. “The bar really has never been lower,” he muses.

“Indeed. I’ll call you again this evening once I’ve exorcised these demons from my home.”

Light’s grin widens. “I used to always just sneeze on Sayu whenever she got annoying when I was sick,” he supplies.

“Ah. You’re an attempted  _ serial _ murderer.”

“And you like me anyway,” Light teases.

“Hm,” L says noncommittally. Light will take it.

“Bye,” he says sweetly. “Good luck.”

“Feel better, Light,” L says before something clicks and Light’s phone goes silent.

He allows himself a long, dreamy sigh, lips stretched wide in a boyish grin, and wouldn’t care even if the whole world heard.

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a drabble but you know? sometimes you just gotta write ten thousand words of gay and i wont apologize for it.
> 
> anyway! follow me on the Hellsite(TM) ((thats tumblr)) @eijier (my main blog) or if you want to look at my art check out @luftballons99
> 
> yes i could just embed the links but then i'd have to google how to do that because i keep forgetting and i dont. have the goddamn patience. 
> 
> also THANKS FOR READING !! like I said this is a very belated birthday present for kaz (aka softkilluas99 on here and softkillua on tumblr) and it? kind of started out as a joke because??? the idea of a lawlight coffeeshop au is kind of hilarious and out of character??? but you know what I had fun with it and i hope you all have fun reading it (especially you kaz im sorry it took so long RIP)
> 
> (next chapter of knuckle tape should be out soon maybe hopefully btw THE POINT IS i haven't abandoned it. it's coming.)


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